


dust

by plutolanding



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Developing Relationship, Government Conspiracy, Happy Ending, Implied Genocide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Nuclear War, i tried my best using what i know from astronomy, many creative liberties were taken in regards to the government and space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutolanding/pseuds/plutolanding
Summary: "Gamma rays," Lance mutters, kicking a pulverized metal storage container, left over from the bunker days, as if it had personally wronged him. "Of course it had to be fatally destructive, locked onto Earth, gamma rays. 'Real-life Death Star,' they called it. Who even references those Star Wars movies anymore? They're almost three hundred years old!"Binary star systems, Lance has discovered on an utterly personal level, are pretty destructive when one of the two decides to go supernova at a distance only a few times farther than the edge of the solar system.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the beginning of the end... in this story, and in voltron as a whole. it sure has been a ride, huh? it's been a little over two years since i got into vld, and i wrote this fic about 9 months ago for a creative writing course, but i never felt compelled to post it 'til now. it's not even canonverse, but i just didn't want to put it out there, for a few different reasons. now that we're finally done though, i figured i might as well. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys it, and that you're all hanging in there in the aftermath of this series.

"Gamma rays," Lance mutters, kicking a pulverized metal storage container, left over from the bunker days, as if it had personally wronged him. "Of course it had to be fatally destructive, locked onto Earth, gamma rays. 'Real-life Death Star,' they called it. Who even references those Star Wars movies anymore? They're almost three hundred years old!"

Binary star systems, Lance has discovered on an utterly personal level, are pretty destructive when one of the two decides to go supernova at a distance only a few times farther than the edge of the solar system.

The desolation of the city hasn't ceased to be eerie quite yet. Not yet in need of more supplies, Lance hasn't bothered to venture out of the cityscape ever since the global-scale evacuation started, and he thinks he can last a few more weeks on what he still has. There's a small loft apartment with his name on the lease, but he's in a sort of undercover situation that keeps him from going back to his own home. Instead, he's been alternating shelters every few days, a task that became simple once he scrounged up small pins perfect for lock picking. Not that it was much of a breaking-and-entering situation, not with every single pristine building left abandoned, as if the whole city had been built for aesthetics rather than for people to actually live in.

Lance never thought of the quiet before. His life was one characterized by sound, whether that be from the headphones he didn't go anywhere without, his bustling university campus, or at home with a larger than average family. Silence didn't fit into his life, and that wasn't something he minded. He needed the ambient noise to focus, needed voices and footsteps to blend together into a soft background murmur that drowned out every distraction to his senses.

He doesn't hear much of anything these days, nothing other than his own sneakers against asphalt and his steady breaths as he paces the same streets he's made himself familiar with for the last⸺he pulls out the journal he's deprecatingly titled 'Days Lance Lived Through Before Being Killed By Radiation'⸺two months that he's been on his own. There's no more morning rush hour, no welcoming chimes as cafe doors open, and he feels like the one raising the sun as he's the only person to see it happen.

Lance carries around a portable radio-slash-audio-recorder with him so he can listen to something other than his own thoughts during the long hours of each day. The contraption is old and boxy, a faded blue color that reminds him of overcast skies in the winter. It's just past that time now, budding flowers signaling the edge of springtime approaching. Despite his phone always resting securely in his pocket, he sets his radio out for a few hours each day, dials turned to the music his parents recorded on it before giving it to him as a gift. There aren't any actual channels he can access anymore, so the same music he grew up with serves as the soundtrack for the time he spends scrawling lines in his journal.

It's another uneventful day, and Lance tiredly punches his code into the lock on the door of a two story bakery-apartment building that he uses for shelter often, mostly because of his familiarity with it from the days when everything was normal. The lingering smell of bread and pastries is a comfort in the midst of his displacement, and he turns the radio back on at a low volume as he settles into the makeshift bedding he arranged in the back storeroom.

Lance stares up at the ceiling, apathetically recounting the events of the day.  _Man, you'd think having the entire world to yourself would mean you could do whatever you wanted. I ran out of hobbies on day one._ Shifting onto one side and breathing in the scent of worn cotton, Lance lets his eyes drift shut and the music carries him off into dreamless sleep.

-

The morning is a repeat of all those that came before it. A shrill alarm wakes Lance and he groans as he reaches to shut it off. There's never anywhere he needs to be, but he keeps all his alarms for some semblance of normalcy, something to keep him from going idle and feeling regret over the decisions that kept him here. But once the ringing ceases, Lance notices that something feels distinctly off. The air in the bakery feels different, and he would call himself crazy if he hadn't spent a majority of his days during the last few years familiarizing himself with the store. The surroundings feel fresh and crisp in a bad way, and that's when he notices the silence.

There's no melodic guitar, no crooning voice, and Lance knows he left the radio on overnight. He looks to the side where he remembers setting his backpack down against the radio, and breathes out in relief when his bag is still there. Then, panic sets in deeply as he realizes his radio is definitively not in the room.

_Could an animal have taken it? Would an animal even bother wandering into a random shop in the city?_ Everyone's domestic pets had gone with the people, but that didn't mean the wildlife wasn't still out there. Maybe one noticed that were weren't any clothed quadrupeds leaving their messes everywhere anymore, and decided it was safe to explore. The idea of a wildcat or boar or literally any other undomesticated animal also occupying the small apartment space freezes Lance in place, and he takes a furtive look around from where he sits to make sure there's nothing waiting to rip his tender human flesh apart.

When he looks up toward the counters, he realizes several of the pantry containers are empty. Most of them already were, since the employees were probably instructed to clear out before the shop was closed in preparation for departure, but Lance knows there's some food left in the preservation locker in the corner of the back room he slept in. He looks over to it, and the door is wide open, revealing nothing but empty shelves.

Lance is shaking now, trying to figure out how an animal could open a locker like that, and ultimately decides he's too afraid to try to understand. He decides the coast is clear for now, and packs his bag with an efficiency that he couldn't even manage in school. He hoists it onto his back, and runs.

Every step he takes away from the building pounds against the ground in the same rhythm as his heart beating against his ribcage. He's pissed that he probably can't return to the bakery anymore, if he can even stay in the area at all knowing that there's a wild animal on the loose. He didn't stay on this doomed planet just to get killed by some predator as if he was living in the wild pre-civilization.

An aching burn in his thighs reminds Lance that he's been running for maybe fifteen minutes now, definitely overkill considering he hadn't actually seen something worth running from. He slows to catch his breath and turns the corner when he sees the alleyway that leads to a recently renovated community center. He's put off by the thought of work being done to make a place meant to host people more accommodating just months before everyone beamed off away from Earth. Not much of a community anymore, is it?

He wonders if the water fountains in the building are still running. He hasn't had too much trouble staying hydrated even without anyone left to run the water supply systems. The same goes for electricity and gas, because he's still able to charge his phone and laptop, and he's refilled his car's tank a few times over in order to lessen the strain of scavenging any resources he comes across. It's a confusion he tries not to think too much about, having decided early on not to dwell on all of the details about his situation that don't make sense.

It's as he discovers there is, in fact, running water, he realizes he doesn't have his carrying tanks with him. Or his hose. Or any of his other necessities outside of the bare minimum contained in his backpack. They're all stored safely in the car that he's been calling home for a great portion of the time that he spends driving across the city searching for something, anything that'll lead him to answers.

The same car that he left abandoned two blocks down from the bakery he ran from in fear of a potential bobcat, or snake, or a mischief of rats who needed his radio in order to create the soundtrack for their major motion picture. That last one might be a bit of a stretch, but Lance is going to use his imagination to entertain himself however he can, thank you very much.

Resigning himself to the tedious but extremely necessary task of retrieving his car, he casts a longing look at the water dispenser and turns to exit the way he came.

It takes significantly longer to head back to where he came from, both because he's walking this time rather than running, and because adrenaline and paranoia aren't clouding his senses to the point where ten minutes pass by in an instant. He'd usually have his headphones in on a walk like this, playing music from one of the many playlists he added to his phone over the last few years. He's still sore over the loss of his radio, though, and he wants to be aware of his surroundings in case he really ends up defending his life from a feral predator.

He nears the familiar street corner of the bakery and the mess of confusing memories from the morning's events hit him all at once, causing his stride to slow with trepidation in each step. Almost as if the Universe senses his worries in that moment, the sound of a frustrated sigh meets Lance's eardrums.

Freezing stock still, his thoughts go into overdrive.  _Did I sigh without being aware of it? Did I imagine that? It was probably just some leaves scraping across the road. There's no one else here._ He repeats the last phrase over and over to himself, inexplicably seized by terror at the idea of not having been alone the entire time. Just as he's started to adjust, something⸺some  _one_ , he corrects himself⸺might destroy every mental reinforcement he's built to protect himself.

Steeling himself, he picks his pace back up like a student caught between stopping for a coffee or continuing onwards to class, only choosing the latter once they've spent too long considering the tempting offer of caffeine and having to rush to make it in time. Lance can vouch for this with plenty of personal experience.

As he turns a street corner, the idea of finding some kind of weapon occurs to him, but he discards it with a grimace because he's self-aware enough to know he'd be more likely to hurt himself than his assailant.

"God, damn it."

The muffled curse comes from just ahead of him and Lance's brain is momentarily shocked into white noise, hearing an actual voice from an actual person and realizing,  _Oh, this is happening._

He knows he should look up, knows he needs to do it to confirm that what he heard is real and not a figment of his hyperactive, and occasionally delusional imagination. He knows this, and yet he wants nothing more than to turn around and high-tail it out of there, living out the rest of his time in ignorant bliss until he's blasted to death by high-frequency gamma rays.

He looks up.

Lance blinks. And he blinks again. Yeah, that's definitely a human right there, sitting on a cracked step and fiddling with the dials on his radio.

"You're not a bobcat," Lance blurts, eyes wide with shock.

The stranger's eyes widen minutely, but his surprise is gone as soon as it comes. He raises a thick eyebrow, gaze slowly sliding over to meet Lance's. "I guess that's not the weirdest pick up line I've ever heard." He continues messing with the device's settings, but he doesn't stop looking at Lance, and it's really unnerving.

"No— I— You're a person?" he asks, trying to find some control over his brain to mouth filter.

The other guy, who Lance notes looks to be around his age, keeps his eyebrow raised as a small smirk joins his expression. "Unless I've been deceived by society my whole life, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm a person. Like you."

Lance is still standing in front of him, wondering how this dude is so casual about seeing another person, when Lance hasn't had company for two entire months. "How?" he finally asks, every bit of his incredulity coloring the lone syllable.

The stranger finally puts the radio down and turns to face Lance with an absolutely smug grin. "Well," he drags the word out, "when two people love each other—"

"Oh, quit it," Lance is quickly becoming aware of how insane this is, that there's another person who chose to stay on Earth and they happen to be in the same city. "How are you on Earth?"

"I'm stealthy, and border patrol never caught me. I didn't want to leave, so I didn't."

"Why?"

It's subtle, but Lance sees the guy's amusement dull and realizes the bluntness with which he asked the question. Before he can take it back, the stranger is speaking.

"Seems kind of personal, don't you think?" He breaks the hold of their gaze, dark fringe slightly obscuring sharp eyes, and Lance thinks he sees a hint of a self-pitying smile that barely has a second to shape the other's lips. "I have my reasons. I'm sure you understand."

Lance pauses, having sunk into the routine of conversation with another person more easily than anticipated. He's still confused, but he's all too familiar with keeping his own secrets, an unfortunate necessity that kept him tied to Earth.

"Yeah," he responds, nodding his head and smiling in a way he hopes the stranger finds honest. "I get it. Besides, there's plenty of time for me to get you to open up.” He tries to hide it, but now that he has fully accepted the existence of another person, he’s a little bit desperate to make friends with him. “I can tell you right now that I'm excellent at holding conversations, so we won’t be having any problems."

“We?” the stranger asks, and there’s that thick brow rising up on his forehead once again. So Lance is dealing with a skeptic, huh? “Do you usually assume you’re friends with everyone you meet?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You don’t need to be afraid of all this charisma, Mr. Loner.”

“It’s kind of hard to  _not_ be a loner when you’re the only one left on the planet, but okay.”

Lance scoffs in mock offense, trying to tame the corner of his lip from quirking up in a smile when he realizes this guy he’s never met before is playing along with his act. “Oh, so I’m no one, then? Your imaginary friend, perhaps? Damn, at least ask my name before writing me off like that.”

“What is it, then?”

He isn’t actually expecting the question, so it takes him a second to process it before he can answer. “The name’s Lance. What about you?”

His mouth twists in consideration, and then he says, “Keith.”

_Keith_. Lance has a passing thought that his name fits his face perfectly.

“Also, I’m not coming with you, if you were going to ask.”

He totally was. He’s disappointed for a second, but then he looks around the area, from the worn flannel hugging Keith’s shoulders to the faded red duffel bag on the verge of overflowing, and he has an idea.

“I have a car...” he starts, leaving the end of the statement open to Keith’s interpretation.

As expected, his eyes widen with interest and Lance almost laughs at how predictable that was. Pretty positive that Keith has gotten the picture, he continues, “We can share our resources and work together instead of bumming around the city on our own. Just sounds convenient, don’t you think?”

What they’ll be working together for is left unsaid, and Lance wonders what it is that Keith stayed for. He isn’t selfish enough to assume that he’s the only one who feels an unbreakable connection to Earth, and it definitely surprised him when he didn’t see anybody else hiding from border patrol miles off from the air fields like he had been.

"Okay," Keith says slowly, clearly doubting Lance's trustworthiness. It's kind of ironic, considering Lance only knows Keith exists because of his apparent career as a petty thief. "I don't have much, though," he says, nudging his duffel slightly. "Didn't have much to begin with, but I'll help out."

"Okay," Lance mimics, "as long as you don't try to steal any of my stuff again." He tries to come off as jokingly accusatory, but he feels kind of bad when he thinks about Keith living the last two months off his feet with nothing but whatever could fit in that tiny bag.

Said thief stiffens at the words, and it's concerning how quickly Keith's previously nonchalant and teasing demeanor shifted into a defensive one. "I'm sorry," he starts, an edge of fear in his slightly gravelly voice. "I was trying to get a signal for something I've been tracking, I planned to put it back before you woke up, honestly—"

"Hey, it's fine," Lance says, truthful in that he's really not that mad at Keith. He was scared as hell at first, he won't deny that, but how could he be angry when he finally,  _finally_ , has someone to talk to instead of driving himself crazy with his own thoughts? "I'm not upset, and you can keep using it for whatever you need since we're going to stick together. Don't worry about a thing, man."

Keith is avoiding his gaze, seemingly focused on the rows of windows lining the buildings across the road. After a few moments of silence, he nods his head subtly and responds, "Alright. Thanks." He stands up, pulling his duffel onto one shoulder. Then, he looks at Lance expectantly, silent in a way that feels deliberately off-putting.

"Okay, well..." Lance scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "I needed to get more water, and my supplies are in my car, so..." He starts walking in the direction of the street where he parked, gesturing back at Keith to follow.

-

The drive back to the community center is uneventful, the two of them sitting in near silence as Lance drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

As he fills up multiple gallon-sized water tanks to store in the car's backseat, Lance notices Keith has connected a cumbersome headset to his radio and is looking at an arbitrary point on the wall with his eyebrows furrowed as he listens. Keith is so intently focused on _something_ and Lance watches him curiously out of the corner of his eye until he's satisfied with their drinking supply.

Keith leads the walk back out to the car as soon as he notices Lance capping the last of the tanks, grabbing two of them and somehow managing to hold onto the radio at the same time. They sit silently once more after loading the car and Lance turns his head to face Keith, who has lowered the headset to rest against the back of his neck.

"What are you listening for?" Lance asks, hesitance clear as he hopes not to overstep any bounds.

“There’s this building I go to, over on the east side of the city. Near that really big library with the marble figure-eight sculpture near the entrance?”

“Yeah, I know the one,” Lance responds, biting his lip to keep from pointing out the change in subject. “You want to go to it?”

Keith nods. “I’ll, uh… I’ll show you something when we get there.” It’s vague, but Lance supposes it wouldn’t have been brought up without reason. He looks out the window at the darkening sky, the slightest hint of stars gleaming out on a gradient canvas of indigo and blue, and turns on the ignition.

“Alright, then. Let’s get to it.”

Not willing to sit through another silent drive, Lance reaches over to where Keith sits on his right side and turns knobs on the radio as he backs out of the parking space. He’s aware that following traffic rules is entirely pointless when there’s nobody around to give him a ticket, but he took driver’s ed very seriously and he likes to think he’s making his driving instructor proud.

Soft guitar strums fill the closed space, the rhythmic crash of a snare bouncing off darkened windows and mimicked by Lance’s tapping fingers once again. He’s more at ease this way, sounds from his childhood bringing back memories of nighttime drives through rural land with his head in his mother’s lap in the backseat, her sweet voice crooning into his ear as she stroked his hair.

(“ _Un hilo invisible me lleva hacia ti, prefiero pensar que aún te acuerdas de mí_ ,” she’d sing, and he’d imagine a bright crimson thread running from his pinky to hers, always keeping them within range of each other. He remembers twirling around with her in their living room, furniture pushed to the sides to create a miniature dance floor. He’d giggle happily as his father swooped in and carried him on his shoulders, bouncing Lance as they moved across the floor. Then he’d be set down, and he’d watch happily from the sofa as his parents pulled close to one another, his mother resting her head on his father’s chest as they swayed together to the rhythm.)

He pushes the thoughts out of his head with a controlled exhale, adjusting his position in his seat and focusing on the rush of the world moving past him as he stares down the expanse of road in front of them. Dwelling on the past like that isn’t going to help him, and he has more important things to deal with now. That begins with getting himself and Keith to this certain building, miles off from where they are now. He winces at the idea of Keith walking from there to the bakery, knowing it would be at least four hours between the locations. Damn, living through the end of the world is a great way to get exercise.

-

They’re a couple blocks from the library when Keith perks up in his seat, grabbing the strap of the red duffel as if he’s ready to sprint out of the car while it’s still moving. “It’s the one with the striped awning,” he says, and Lance pulls over to park by the curb.

“Do I need to bring anything?” he asks as he unbuckles himself.

Keith shrugs in response. “If you want.” He’s immediately distracted by messing with the radio again as he walks off, and Lance quickly shrugs on a thin olive green jacket and swings his backpack over one shoulder as he follows.

He looks away for one second, back at the car to check that it’s locked, and when he looks forward again, Keith is climbing up a ladder to reach the fire escape on the side of the building. “What the hell…” Lance mutters to himself, astounded at how Keith is somehow managing to climb with only one free hand, the other holding his radio protectively against his side. It sparks an odd fondness in him, that Keith would be attentive enough to keep his things safe even as he’s eagerly scaling upward.

Keith is already a couple floors above Lance by the time the latter has gotten his hands on a ring. Rolling his eyes as Keith rushes ahead of him, Lance hoists himself up each bar and then up the zig-zagging staircase. At the top, there's a door to a shorter indoor stairwell, and Lance hooks a hand around the last door to the roof as it closes behind Keith, walking across the threshold and seeing—

Radios. There's at least a dozen of them strewn about the otherwise barren rooftop, some of them with gears and screws and other internal parts spilled around them. Keith is sitting cross-legged in approximately the center, head tilted upward and eyes closed with the headset snug over his ears once again. He looks serene like this, void of the slight frustration he wore in the past few hours, inky black hair fluttering slightly in a soft breeze. Lance steps closer, trying to make sense of the array of blinking radio devices surrounding them, trying to decipher what the look on Keith's face means.

Keith's eyes open and lock with Lance's, who freezes both at being caught staring and because Keith's eyes are… purple? Maybe it's just the dark sky reflecting off already dark eyes, but Lance can pinpoint a strange luminescence there. There's a stillness in the air for a moment, a question lingering on the tip of both their tongues. As Lance is about to voice his confusion, Keith grabs a journal from the ground beside him that Lance hadn't noticed before.

The rough concrete is cool below Lance as he sits down alongside the other, and aged paper brushes against itself as Keith fervently flips through the pages.

"I'm trying to detect frequencies."

Lance is taken aback. "Like, of radio waves?"

"Yeah," Keith nods, turning the leather-bound journal toward him after a moment of hesitation. "There are specific combinations I've been tracking, but I haven't really had any luck. Sometimes I get close, but most of the devices I use can't seem to detect in the range I'm looking for. Weak antennae, probably."

As he speaks, Lance looks over the messy scrawl filling the pages set before him. There are several combinations of frequencies, measurements in nanometers calculated and paired together in various color coded groups. Judging by smears of ink he can see on the edges of other pages, he can guess that there are several other sheets just like this one.

"The first month, I went around the city a lot in search of a place with a clear signal. Everything got real jumbled near the ground, probably because of radiation spreading out from nuke zones."

Lance tenses at the mention of the war. It wasn't all that long ago, lasting through the last couple years he was in college, and the memories of it stay fresh and fester like an infected laceration.

(On the bad days, days where the songs on his radio hurt more than they help, the wind whistling between corridors of buildings sounds like the voices of his loved ones. The ones who were at the wrong place at the wrong time while he was powerless to protect them across international seas. On those days, he thinks about his parents, about the calls he received the day before half the world was set alight in devastating blasts, and he cries where there's nobody to see him even if he wanted them to.)

"I climbed a crap ton of buildings trying to find a spot that worked," Keith continues, "and I nearly broke my arm slipping on a ladder I hadn't realized was iced over by condensation. I was lucky to find this place pretty soon after that."

"You went all around the city on foot for that long?" Lance asks, still impressed at the amount of patience it must take to travel on your own like that.

Keith shakes his head, though, a frown crossing his face as he replies, "I had a hoverbike, but it broke down after I'd been staying in this area for about a week. I could have fixed it in other circumstances, but I don't have the right tools on me and I decided finding supplies wasn't too important since I found a spot that worked for me."

"How did you end up at the bakery if you've been camping around here for the last month?"

A bashful flush grows on Keith's cheeks, and he flicks some tiny rocks on the floor in front of him. "Uh, I ran out of food, and I kind of panicked since every place near here apparently cleared out before leaving. I have a bunch of bread from your bakery in my duffel," he says, a small grin on the verge of erupting on his face.

Lance recalls, then, the multiple lockers he saw had been left open and devoid of food, and chokes out a laugh at the situation. "Dude, I ran from there with my tail between my legs this morning because I thought some kind of evolved wild animal managed to steal my radio and unlock the pantry. Can't believe I was driven out by some wilderness ranger wannabe.”

He's lightly shoved in the shoulder by an indignant Keith, who turns his attention back to the radio all of a sudden and holds the headset tightly over his ears. It's silent for a few minutes as he listens, and Lance's amusement fades as he tries to make sense of the frequencies.

When Keith pulls the headset off again, Lance tries to redirect their previous conversation. "So, you said these were combinations. What are they for?"

“They’re locations, I think.” Keith pauses, and Lance wants to press for more, but he has a feeling he’s about to be told regardless. “My, uh, my mom left them for me. Like, this whole journal, I got from her when I was really little. I haven’t seen her since, and it was just me and my dad for the next few years. Most of the time, I stayed with a friend from school, but my dad knows I chose to stay here. Before he left… he told me to ‘trust in the numbers,’ and the inside cover says the same thing.” The words are written in a script much smoother than Keith’s, but with the same sense of hastiness, as if the answers would fly away if they didn’t get them down fast enough.

“So, I’ve been trying to figure it out. Just waiting for the numbers to line up in the right way, until they match with the coordinates I have.”

“You’re going off coordinates your mom left for you over a decade ago? And you stayed to find her, right?”

“I know it’s improbable,” Keith says, scowling but defensive. “I have no reason to believe this journal will lead me anywhere but,” he quiets, “it’s all I have.”

It feels odd, knowing Keith voluntarily offered all this explanation to him without Lance giving him any in return. He doesn’t know how to bring it up, though, and since Keith isn’t asking, he lets it go. For the last two months, Keith has been searching and studying frequencies, on the hunt for a trail that’ll give him the answers he’s been craving for years. Lance has spent the last two months doing nothing. He’s been existing, knowing full well the reason why he stayed but finding that he isn’t doing anything about it. He isn’t sure if he even can.

They fall asleep together on the roof that night, blanketed by twinkling stars that seem to mock them for being the only fools that chose to stay on a planet doomed to destruction.

-

Nothing remarkable happens in the next few days. They use the daylight to gather supplies, though they never discuss why they need them. They haven’t planned any sort of mission, but Lance feels like they’re standing on the edge of a precipice. Their days have been idle, and their nights have been more of Keith flipping pages and messing with the radio. Sometimes, he’ll turn on one of the other radios that’s still functional and they’ll listen to whatever music unknown strangers once found important. Instead of continuing to sleep on the roof, they relocate to the back room of a small thrift store that Keith already has a mattress up in, and find bedding for Lance as well. They’ve got a routine, but Lance wonders if that’s all it’s going to be. Repetition, day by day, until there are no more days left to repeat.

About a week after they meet, Lance is scribbling in the pages of his 'Days Lance Lived Through Before Being Killed By Radiation' journal, drawing overlapping wave patterns to the sound of Keith adjusting multiple devices. His fingers trace the image automatically, and he’s half spaced out until he hears an urgent shout of his name. His pen marks a heavy line across the page when his arm jerks in surprise, and he turns to see Keith standing up straight with wide, shining eyes flicking between the radio and his own journal.

“What? What is it?” Lance asks, pulling himself off a makeshift bench to rush over to Keith’s side.

“I got it!” Keith exclaims, looking up with a huge smile that makes Lance notice tiny dimples on either side of his mouth. There’s hope in his eyes, a ferocity that ignites Lance in turn, and his skin buzzes in anticipation.

“I managed to pick up some unique frequencies when I modified a few of these antennae, and when I translated them to coordinates with the decryption I have, they matched with one of the patterns I’ve been tracking.” Keith is talking in double-time, and Lance can see that his hands are shaking as he explains his discovery.

“Alright, so where is it? Is it near here?”

“I still need to check the coordinates on a map. We’re really lucky that Earth’s satellites still work, otherwise we’d have to do with without GPS.”

“I’ve got a computer,” Lance says, holding a hand out for the journal. “Let me find the coordinates.”

Keith passes the numbers over and follows him back to the bench where Lance’s backpack slumps over, and from the corner of his eye, Lance sees him fidgeting with his hands in an anxious tick he’s never noticed before. He pulls up a satellite map and quickly enters the coordinates  _32° 29' 2.98'' N; 106° 36' 50.23'' W_. The entry buffers and he impatiently huffs out a breath, hoping it doesn’t lead to some place states away from where they are now. There isn’t much way to tell, but there’s an itch in his mind telling him time is running out and he still hasn’t accomplished anything in the time he’s been alone. He prays this isn’t a dead end.

Skimming over the details that pop up on his screen, he’s intrigued by what he sees. “It looks like some kind of aerospace test facility? It might be owned by the national space program.” He hums as he enters their current location, and perks up when the navigator says they’re only about fifty miles off from the location. “It’s only about an hour north of us. I assume we’re leaving now?”

Keith looks like he’s strongly considering it, but shakes his head. “We’ll go in the morning. If there’s anything to find, it’ll be easier in the daylight.” He shuts off and stores the radios, shoves the papers into his duffel, and takes a long pause to breathe in the cool air. Lance watches him as he does so, noting how moonlight illuminates the slope of his nose, how the chill brings a soft red tint to his cheeks. He looks like he’s glowing, and Lance isn’t sure if it’s a result of the hazy air or if it’s just Keith’s sheer happiness at finding a lead. Either way, the sight is unreal.

Lance breathes in, too. It smells a bit like rain, and clouds far off behind mountains at the horizon hint at precipitation for the next day. They’re distant enough that Lance isn’t worried, and he descends the fire escape with Keith, the two of them falling into their respective mattresses, dropping off into sleep underlined by a buzz of anticipation.

-

In the morning, the sun beams down brightly on Lance and Keith packing up the car. It’s humid, and Lance is already sweating as he loads water tanks into the back, alongside the food they gathered during the week. He checks over his medical supply, which isn’t really necessary since he’s only had to use it once so far, but it eases his conscience when he knows they shouldn’t be in much trouble if they run into any problems. Keith carries over some blankets from their pile on the floor too, just in case they end up staying in the area overnight. Once everything is ready, they head out.

Less than ten minutes into the drive, the previously bright sky has turned dark and cloudy, and Lance wonders if it would be better to make the trip when the weather is better. He voices as much, but Keith resolutely says that he’s had enough of waiting. He isn’t being unreasonable, and Lance is just as eager as his companion, so he keeps driving until they eventually pass the northern edge of the city and hit barren land sparsely dotted by dry bushes.

Keith has his passenger window partly rolled down and he’s looking out at the desert with a barely-there smile Lance can see when he glances at his profile. Lifting his head from where it rests against the inner frame of the car, Keith looks over at Lance in the split second before he can look back at the road.  _Damn, caught staring again_. In that moment, Keith’s bright gaze dropped slightly, not into one of sadness, but rather one that held fondness in the curve of his mouth. He feels light, knowing he could be the reason Keith reconnects to his past. Maybe he’ll find answers of his own, too, something that will help him understand why everything happened the way it did.

Rain starts coming down soon after and Lance points out a small group of white buildings in the distance. “That must be it,” he says quietly, unwilling to overpower the patter of the rain with his voice.

“Must be,” Keith responds, equally as subdued. He isn’t surprised by either of their hesitation, by the undercover fear that grips them both about what they might find. The last few years have been full of political turmoil and uncertainty about the country’s state of affairs with secrets being kept and covered up by several powerful groups. The test facility they’re pulling up to is property of the government, and the kind of information kept behind closed doors is inconceivable to them both.

There are gates barring off entry to the side road leading to the facility, so Lance pulls off to the side and parks, stepping out of the car in tandem with Keith. Hopping over the low gates, they run closer toward the buildings, which they see are a large array of metal rectangles with complicated lines of scaffolding and tubing crossing over and running between each area. There are a few giant dish-shaped satellites off to the side as well, each set to face in a different direction.

One of the buildings is labeled with the name  _AASA Raiona Test Facility_ in bold black letters across the top. They figure it must be the main operation hub and approach the entrance, subtle in appearance yet grand in size.

“You have any idea how to get through this?” Keith asks, looking around for any other spots that didn’t look as secure.

“I’ve been an amateur lockpick for the last two months, but we’re gonna need some kind of code to enter this way.” Lance points out a keypad by the door, bordered by a neon blue light that shows it’s active. “Unless we can turn it off, somehow.”

“Oh,” says Keith, blinking at the keypad for a second as if just realizing something incredibly obvious. “I have a transmitter on me. I might be able to use radio signals to interfere with the ones that keep the security intact?”

Lance smirks at the suggestion. “Radio jamming, huh? Man, that is  _so_ illegal.”

Scoffing in amusement, Keith responds, “Breaking into government property is illegal, in general. Good thing we can’t be caught.” He reaches into a zippered side pocket on his bag and rummages around for his transmitter, small objects falling to the ground as he does. Lance raises a brow as he sees multiple Twix wrappers and at least 3 gel pens at his feet, Keith totally unaware as he brandishes the small electronic device. It seems to have more settings than others Lance has seen before, set with multiple dials and intensity controls along with a built in speaker. He’s still looking judgmentally at Keith’s trash when a high-pitched, distorted warbling fills the air.

“Shit— f— what the hell is that?” Lance demands, panicked as he covers his ears with his palms.

Keith winces and turns the volume down to a still annoying but bearable volume, explaining, “Sorry. I’m using obvious jamming since we don’t need to be discrete and it’s easier to get it right, but I forgot how much it hurts. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Before Lance can ask why on Earth he would have needed to use this before, a series of beeps goes off and they look toward the door to see the keypad lights fade out and hear a quiet click. Keith shakes his head. “Security systems always use the same radio frequency. You’d think a government agency would do more to counteract interference.” He sounds like a teacher unimpressed with a student’s attempt at forging a doctor’s note and Lance struggles not to laugh at how Keith rolls his eyes when he pulls open the heavy door to the hub.

When they’re fully inside, they both pause, slack-jawed. There are computers lining multiple desks arranged in concentric arcs, with more arranged up the walls in the back. It’s chaotic at first glance, but with a closer look Lance can tell that the numerous shelves and consoles of controls are arranged in a way intuitive to the scientists meant to operate them. There are other doors within the room and a darkened corridor leading to another part of the building, but they’re content to investigate the giant room they’re in first.

Lance doesn’t even know what to start with, and he turns to ask Keith but stops when he sees the latter seated in front of one of the computers, typing away on the holographic screen. “What are you doing?”

“Hacking.” It’s said so simply, as if it’s something everyone does, like it isn’t yet  _another_ illegal skill he isn’t sure if he wants to know why Keith has.

“Great. Awesome. Cool, no big deal, totally normal—”

“Chill out. A friend of mine taught me a few years ago, just for fun to mess around on some Reddit threads. I feel like our school’s Hackathon events for computer science majors influenced her a  _bit_ too much, but she never got in trouble so I guess it’s fine?”

Lance snorts and nudges Keith in the shoulder as he’s watching the screen from behind him. “You sure live an interesting life, Mr. Criminal-in-training. What’s next, arson?” Keith is silent for a moment and makes a considering sound, and Lance swats his arm in reprimand. Keith starts laughing then, and Lance scowls. “Oh, shut up, smartass.”

He’s still chuckling even as he keeps typing, but he suddenly cuts off with a choked sound. “I— Oh my God, I actually got in.”

Now it’s Lance laughing, incredulous that they’ve made it this far with relative ease. “Nice work, Keith. Now find the juicy details,” he says, a scheming grin on his face.

Keith clicks through several embedded folders, taking the extra time to get through encryptions using something stored on his USB device. It definitely seems like he prepared for this long ago, like Keith knew that one way or another, he’d get to exactly this point. The screen passes between page after page, going by too quickly for Lance to get a clear look at any of them. Eventually, Keith settles on one, but Lance is too far away from the screen to read the text. He decides to wait until Keith reads it, and if there’s anything important, he’ll tell him.

Seconds pass by, and then a barely-there whisper of, “Fuck… oh, I—” and Keith’s voice cuts off as he leans back in the chair, rubbing his hands up and down his face.

“Is something wrong?” Lance asks, anxiety curling tightly high in his stomach, not knowing what to make of the reaction. Keith jerks forward slightly at his voice, like he’d forgotten Lance was there, and he straightens up in his seat.

“No. No, it’s fine, there’s nothing wrong,” but his voice cracks on the last syllable and he’s never heard Keith so unsure of himself, not in the last week they’ve spent nearly every moment together, and Lance is definitely about to freak out.

“Let me see,” he says, voice unwavering despite his fear. Keith is shaking his head but Lance doesn’t care, he presses forward and stares at the black text on the glowing white screen.

[TARGETED SECTOR DELTA G-M-C-S. SIGNAL HUB 3-5-1 FOR 0500—]

“It’s a transcribed message from,  _fuck_ , some General,” Keith says weakly, resigned to whatever he understood from the message.

[DENY INFORMANTS. IMPERATIVE THAT DETAILS NOT RELEASED. MODERATION NECESSARY HERE AND MULTIPLE OTHER SECTORS THROUGHOUT WEEK. ESTABLISH COMMUNICATION WITH HUB 7-6-2 FOR OTHER TARGETS—]

Lance doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what these words are supposed to mean in the context of this message, and Keith must sense this because he places a shaking hand around Lance’s wrist. Maybe the contact is just to ground himself. “It’s dated from,” he breathes out heavily, “three days after the first strike.” Lance spares a glance over to him, and Keith’s face has gone pale, eyes screwed up tightly like everything wrong with this moment will go away if he just doesn’t look at it. Lance looks back at the screen and keeps reading.

[REFERENCE PREVIOUS SECTORS: ZETA A-B-M-B; PHI M-R-S. ADDITIONALLY PLANNED SECTORS: SIGMA S-C-H-N; MU B-S-Q-L; TAU T-Z-S-A; RHO U-G-B-R; ETA K-Z-N-P. AIR TRANSPORT TO BE DENIED IN PREPARATION. CODE KEY FOUND IN ATTACHED ENCRYPTION. ACCESS IN CONFIDENCE—]

Planned targets? They were… moderating distinct sectors? What does moderation imply? Lance is sweating and the air is suffocating.

[LAUNCH IMMINENT. PHASE ONE FULFILLMENT IN ORDER. POPULATION CONTROL DOCUMENTS AVAILABLE—]

Population control? Lance still doesn’t understand.

[REPEAT. TARGETED SECTOR DELTA G-M-C-S. SIGNAL HUB 3-5-1 FOR 0500. CONTACT GENERAL WITH CONFIRMATION.]

Lance scrolls down to the attached files. He opens them up, methodical as Keith’s programs get through the layers of security, and clicks through to one unsubtly labeled ‘CODE KEYS’.  _G-M-C-S_ , he searches for.

“Lance. Don’t look at that, please.” Keith sounds more in control now, but Lance can barely hear it, he’s too focused on finding out what the hell all those letters mean.  _G-M-C-S_. He keeps scrolling.

[G-M-C-S: Gulf of Mexico - Caribbean Sea.]

Target, Gulf of Mexico to the Caribbean Sea. Signal for 0500. Five in the morning. Five in the morning, deep into December, two years ago. The day the third bomb went off. The day Lance collapsed in front of a dining hall television screen, the image of a looming mushroom cloud and widespread flattened cities emblazoned in his memory. The day Lance lost everything.

(He called them days before that. The first of the bombs went off, five hundred megatons dropped near the southern border of the Canadian provinces, a nuclear war commencing out of nowhere. Lance was terrified, but he didn’t know how much further it would go. He didn’t even know who launched it. He didn’t know who was involved, or who their enemies might have been. He called his family, back home in Cuba as he studied abroad, dedicated to bringing them back with him one day. They assured him they’d be okay, that they were prepared for any circumstance, and that he had nothing to worry about. Everything was supposed to be okay.)

“Lance,” Keith repeats, as if he needs to remind both of them that they aren’t alone, that they need to come back to their senses before they lose their grip on reality.

“It was a planned extermination.” Lance’s voice sounds foreign to himself, his throat clicking painfully and loudly in the dead silence of the control room. “They picked out who they wanted to get rid of, just put targets on them like a fucking shooting range.” A laugh wheezes out him loudly, and he’s painfully aware of how quickly he’s spiraling, but he can’t do anything to stop it. “I can’t, I—” he heaves, has to push away from the desk because he can’t breathe and his vision is blurring and he can’t  _think,_ and he leaves.

Lance shoves his way out the door they came in through, distantly aware of footsteps behind him, unevenly timed like the person who owns them is stumbling their way after him. He runs outside, keeps running down the road they walked down earlier when all they felt was anticipation, not viscous, sticky dread. The rain from earlier has turned into a downpour, and he’s pulled down to the ground with the heavy droplets. His chest is rising and falling too fast but the breaths are coming in too slow, and he knows his cheeks are wet but he can’t distinguish the rain from his burning tears. A dark shadow falls in front of him, and he vaguely recognizes the shape as Keith’s, mirroring him with his knees dug into wet sand, strands of hair stringy from the rain and still humid air.

“Lance,” he says, but Keith’s voice melds with that of his father’s in his memory, his siblings, his cousins, and he can’t close his eyes because if he does, then he’ll  _see_ them too, and he can’t handle that. Instead, he concentrates on Keith’s face, brows furrowed more sharply than ever before, an all-consuming sadness filling his eyes to the brim. Keith doesn’t know why Lance feels broken because he never said why, but he knows Keith is intuitive and probably figured out exactly why Lance is sobbing louder than the chorus of water pummeling the ground.

He knows now, but he doesn’t say anything other than his name once more, then slowly pulls his arms around Lance’s shoulders and presses their chests together. It’s uncomfortable, sharp gravel pressing into their kneecaps and soaked clothing sticking together where they touch, but it’s warm whereas the rest of Lance feels numb to the bone. He can feel Keith’s shuddering breaths as he rubs even patterns up and down Lance’s back. He forces his arms to come up and wrap around Keith’s torso, and they cling to each other like they’re drifting in the empty vacuum of space, having nothing but each other to keep them from being lost forever. The rain keeps coming down, and they keep holding on.

-

They spend the night in the back of the car after folding the seats down. Neither of them are emotionally stable enough to drive, and the weather is unforgiving regardless. They help each other change into dry clothes, and the sudden closeness doesn’t matter because it’s what they need to stay tethered to reality. The soft brush of cotton against skin, the ruffling of blankets pulled over their shoulders, gentle breaths into the warm air. Each soft sound is accompanied by the rhythmic cascade of raindrops, lulling them into sleep.

-

Keith drives them back to the city in the morning, pulling away from the test facility and refusing to look back. Lance’s neck curves as he gazes out the window, blank eyes drifting past everything, and this emotionless Lance is so unsettling that Keith can’t bear to look at him any longer.

-

In the following days, Lance sleeps through most of the hours of the day. Keith knows that sometimes he pretends, choosing to stay curled up on his mattress with his eyes closed instead of facing the world at his back. He doesn’t blame him. Keith didn’t lose anybody in any of the nuclear attacks, not like he’s fairly certain Lance did. Still, the knowledge that the military voluntarily killed billions of people for their own convenience makes bile rise painfully up his throat. He can’t imagine how Lance must feel.

-

Keith still checks on his radios while Lance rests. He doesn’t go up to the roof because he isn’t willing to leave Lance by himself, but he does what he can with the signals he can receive on the ground. Eventually, he realizes that the frequencies from which he found the test facility coordinates were misinterpreted. He switched around numbers by accident, putting together a code that happened to lead to an important location completely by coincidence. His mother’s journal didn’t help him with that. He’s starting to think that investing time in understanding it really is a fruitless task, and he shoves it to the bottom of his bag in a moment of frustrated hopelessness.

When Lance finally speaks to him again, Keith is elated. The silence, despite being something he’s been accustomed to for years, was tearing at him in every moment, and his heart aches from the weak smile he receives.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks a little bit later, a frown tugging down at his lips as he notices Keith’s clenched fists and bitten lips. Of course that’s the first thing he asks, even after spending four days completely silent and mourning. He wants to lie, but he finds that he can’t after Lance has been at his most vulnerable with him.

“Everything in my mom’s journal leads to a dead end. I’ve been keeping up with my trackers over the last few days and realized that what I decoded before was a mistake on my part. Just a coincidence.” He pauses, knowing that saying it aloud will make his feelings all the more concrete. “Nothing I have in there means anything and I’m… disappointed. Honestly, I’m not that surprised, but it still sucks to know for certain that I’ve been chasing fairy dust for months.” He doesn’t voice what this means for his whole reason for staying on Earth, now that he has nothing left to look for.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” comes Lance’s sympathetic voice, and there’s no performance in it like he remembers hearing from the numerous adults who had feigned worry for him when he was younger. Lance is genuine even in the aftermath of his own tragedy, and Keith wishes they could be normal. He wishes they weren’t living on a planet where half the land is covered in radioactive fallout. He wishes they didn’t have their futures ripped away from them by a giant mass of gas that’s light years in the distance, collapsing in on itself with no regard for the lives it would soon affect. He wishes he knew if he made the right decision two months ago as he evaded herds of authorities, face blank as countless passenger ships took off from Earth, never to return. He wishes there was a happy ending to their story.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance starts to come back to himself a few days after the test facility events. He’s strangely resigned to the dire circumstances as he pieces together information from the hacked files with what he knows about the departure preparations from months ago.

Everyone on the planet was informed via global breaking news about the binary star supernova that went off barely two thousand light years from Earth. It happened at some point in time that they couldn’t precisely detect further than the warning that they would be struck by a cosmic blast within the next few months. Predictably, it triggered an international panic that numerous space agencies responded to with proposals to leave the solar system on powerful civilian ships. After that, all that had to be done was round up the few billion remaining humans onto thousands of airfields, launching them on a one-way trip away over the course of several weeks.

The billions of others who should have gone with them were the ones killed in “the war”, which Lance now knows was an elaborately planned nuclear genocide to meet the capabilities of frantic aerospace companies. Rather than leave the ones who wouldn’t fit to die from the energy-rich gamma rays, combined military forces wiped them out so as to not be held liable for the deaths of billions when a new civilization is set up on in a far off system. This way, it looks like an accident, and none of the civilians on those passenger ships would ever know any better.

But Lance knows. And Keith knows, too. They know, and yet there is nothing they can do but continue to search for meaning in their existence as the last human beings planet Earth will ever see.

-

“Keith.”

“Mm?”

Lance wrings his hands uncomfortably, glancing out the windowed wall at the blinding crescent moon in the clear, 3 AM sky. “I think it’ll be soon.”

By this point, it has been over a month since they met, and they’ve managed to fill the time by taking random road trips to other cities to see the sights and maybe ransacking some department stores for the hell of it. They had paused on the gathering materials front for the time after uncovering information at the test facility because, despite never verbally agreeing on it, they knew they needed a distraction from trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do in the time they have left. Keith is face down on the floor beside him, breathing heavily into thin, coverless pillows they had grabbed from the back of the tiny department store they took shelter in. His brow is furrowed as he turns to face Lance, who feels guilt drip into his gut, knowing neither of them has been able to sleep properly since the day they hacked into the government files.

Lance had spent nearly a week in a haze after returning from the  _AASA Raiona Test Facility_. Seeing the truth in written word, cryptic but clear as day even to his panicked mind, set in motion the unraveling of every defense he’d put up around himself after losing his family. The family who loved him endlessly, who gave him the opportunity to pursue his education in a place with endless possibility, who worried more for him than themselves until the very end. Now that he knew that everyone he loved was a part of the unlucky chosen ones who had to give up their lives just so the rest of the world could selfishly survive, his memories of that time are all jumbled.

The time between the planned nuclear genocide and the beginning of the remaining population’s extraction from Earth was long enough that he never noticed the connection between them. When the realization was forced upon him by the confidential files they recovered, he pushed himself to reread them in secret to confirm that it was true. He desperately wanted it to be a ruse, hating that he had no control over anything that happened but still feeling the aching guilt of being the only survivor. He explained as much to Keith the day after he began speaking again, feeling it necessary to give up at least a bit of explanation for the complete shift in his attitude that left Keith basically companionless while he wasn’t able to communicate.

Now, looking down at Keith’s genuinely tired form in the dark, he feels bad for disturbing him from some of the only rest he’s gotten just because he’s feeling panicky. He’s anxious about the looming cosmic disaster, though, and there’s nobody else he can talk to.

“The gamma rays?” Keith asks, eyes cracking open just slightly. Lance hold his breath when he sees a hint of concern in his expression despite his disorientation in the early hour. He nods his head.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Aren’t you scared?” He wants to hear a  _yes_ , wants to hear that he isn’t alone in this all-encompassing fear, that he—

“Should I be?” Keith blinks slowly at him, and Lance shivers under his speculation. He hopes Keith doesn’t notice. “I mean, I chose to leave what remains of my family to stay here. For a part of my family that I’ll never find. I kind of feel like it’s my responsibility to accept the circumstances I’m here under.”

Lance feels unease pool in his gut. He used to be so confident of his decision to stay, to have hidden away from any departure route, but now the feeling of regret keeps growing with no sign of stopping. “You— you’re just okay with this being the end?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Staying always felt like the only option, ever since we first got news of what’s going to happen. I guess it came naturally for apparently everybody but us to leave on those ships, but I really don’t think I considered it.”

“I… I didn’t really think about leaving, either,” Lance admits, puffing out his cheeks as he thinks. “I never considered how scary this would be, though.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

He has to pause, but ultimately says, “I would have felt more alone if I left with everyone. I know most others lost somebody too, but they left the memory of those people behind here so easily. I couldn’t have done that. I don’t regret staying.”

“Why’d you stay?”

“Huh? You already know. My family was killed here, and I couldn’t leave th—”

“I meant,” Keith interrupts, “what is it you wanted to accomplish by staying here?”

“Uh…” Lance bites his lip, brows furrowed.

“Shit, sorry. You don’t have to tell me, I didn’t mean to interrogate you, it’s just that I don’t really know…”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just, I don’t know what to tell you.” Lance laughs to himself, bashful as he ruffles his hair. “It sounds dumb, that I gave up my life to stay here and I don’t even know why, but it’s kind of true. I wanted to avenge them. I still do, but I don’t really know if that’s possible. I can’t salvage any of their memories here. All I can do is share it with you.” It’s said tenderly, and his face heats up as he recalls foggy memories of clinging to the wet clothes on Keith’s back during the storm in the desert. He remembers rough but gentle fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck as Keith whispered  _we’ll be okay_ when it felt like anything but, and he realizes he never properly thanked Keith for dealing with him during his breakdown. He’ll have to remember that for later.

Neither of them says anything for a few moments, and Lance hopes he didn’t make Keith uncomfortable with what he said. He’s about to apologize, but then Keith speaks.

“We could avenge them.”

Lance’s heart thumps faster at the word ‘we’, and then he registers the actual sentence. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to leave Earth?” Keith isn’t looking at him, and Lance is unsettled by the determination settling into his expression.

“I mean, I want to say no, but if it was possible I don’t think I would turn it down. We’ve been so bored here, y’know, I don’t know if there’s any value in the time we have left. But it isn’t possible, so—”

“It is.” And now Keith’s meeting his gaze, and Lance is really confused. “We could leave. I know a way.”

“I… Okay, Keith, you sound really ominous right now so if you could please explain to me in more words what you’re trying to tell me—”

And there’s Keith interrupting him again, grabbing hold of his wrist and speaking with a new fire in his eyes. “I’ll show you, instead.”

-

That’s how Lance ends up manhandled into the passenger seat of his own car, Keith having stolen the keys from his bag at some point during their scuffle that he doesn’t remember.

“Are you going to tell me where the hell you’re taking me, or do I have to note down ‘kidnapping’ on the list I have of crimes you’ve committed?” He delivers it as a joke, but he really does have a list of Keith’s vaguely criminal acts written down in his journal, beginning with ‘serial radio stealer’. He’s honestly impressed with himself for not just booking it in the opposite direction the moment he saw the rooftop collection of radios.

“The law has been meaningless for three months,” Keith deadpans, and Lance huffs exaggeratedly as he goes back to looking out the window, completely missing the fond smirk directed at his profile. He spaces out as he watches buildings and then empty land blur by, but a couple of hours later they must reach their destination because the car slows to a stop and he hears Keith unbuckling his belt. Lance shakes himself back into awareness, and his stomach drops heavily as he realizes where they are.

The rain from the storm that feels so distant now in his memories is long dried, but he thinks he can tell where the torrent created new paths in the dense desert sand. Further ahead of him lays a sight that prods insistently at grief he doesn’t want to revisit. Webs of scaffolding, multiple giant satellite dishes, and the sole anomaly: Keith grinning devilishly at him as he trots backward, beckoning him from where he’s already far ahead.

“Keith, why are we here?” Lance shouts across the empty lot of the test facility, climbing over the gate and reluctantly following after him.

“You’ll see soon, just hurry up!” It’s playful, and Lance grins despite himself at the childlike energy. He supposes he can entertain Keith a while longer if it means seeing him act like this. After nearly losing him around multiple corners, they both stumble into an open hanger, stretching tall and wide to accommodate all the crafts it once held.

And apparently, the one lone ship that still sits idle in the center of the room.

Lance is speechless.

“W-what? Keith, I’m not seeing things right now, right? That’s really an actual fucking spaceship right there?” The craft isn’t nearly as grand as the massive rockets that Lance remembers watching launches of on TV when he was younger. Those ships were usually crew-less, more like hulking satellites used to conduct research in space. Instead, the ship in front of them reminds him of military fighter jets, only bigger in size. Several small engines line the front underside of triangular wings, and the front of the cockpit is covered by a clear, domed viewport. He’d only seen these from a distance before, when he had to keep away from any officials who would have tried to round him up onto one of them and shoot him off into space.

“Yup.” The word is smug, and Lance tears his eyes away from the sleek white aircraft to instead narrow at them at Keith.

“How the hell did you know this was here?”

“I saw a glimpse of the outside of the hangar the first time we were here. I may have stolen your car for a couple hours while you were dead asleep the other day to do some exploring.” He doesn’t even look apologetic. Keith’s entire face is taken over by pride, and Lance really can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You said earlier that we could leave,” Lance starts, hope creeping into his voice although he tries to keep himself calm. “The ship works?”

“We have to do some diagnostics since it hasn’t been operated in a while, but otherwise, yes. Ships like this one were made for interstellar missions with small flight crews. It’s optimized to travel faster than almost any other spacecraft.”

“What does that mean? And how do you know all of this stuff?” Lance has found that Keith confuses him in a lot of ways, but this might be the most epic surprise he’s ever received and he can’t help but smile even as he asks his questions.

“The friend I lived with for a few years before everything happened went to school to become a pilot. I learned a lot about spaceflight from him since I would help him study sometimes, and he’d constantly recommend me books and online articles about literally anything aerospace related.” Keith looks exasperated, but Lance can tell it’s a front for the fact that he does actually miss his friend.

“And,” Keith says, addressing the first question, “it travels faster because of hyperspeed.”

Par for the course, Lance is still lost. “I mean, wouldn’t it have to? There’s no way the passenger ships everyone left on would make it out of our system within our lifetimes without that technology.”

“You’re right, but these ships can store almost as much fuel as giant passenger ships while carrying only a fraction of the weight. It doesn’t even need a full ascent stage to get to orbit. It’s probably powerful enough to take us to the drop zone the military designated as the arrival port.”

“And it’s so small, we probably wouldn’t get detected as we landed,” Lance adds, the idea turning gears in his head. “Holy shit, are we really doing this?”

He wants to. Oh, he wants to  _so_ badly, and he really hopes Keith’s excitement is genuine and not just a cover-up to make Lance happy. But Keith is nodding, moving to stand next to him and look up at their ticket out as he says, “We have nothing to lose.”

-

They allocate the next week or so to running diagnostics and checking every system for functionality. They’re overjoyed to discover enough fuel to fill the ship’s reserves, and they learn a lot about manual labor as they actually equip the ship with everything they’d be needing. Luckily, it seems that a majority of human essentials were already in various storage locations, and they figure this ship had been prepared for departure but ultimately wasn’t needed in the end. Lance thinks bitterly that the government’s miscalculation for this ship cost the lives of whoever could have used it and been part of the evacuation, but he’s learning how to avoid dwelling on that part of the past, and he tells himself he’s lucky to have this still here for them to use. By the end of all their procedures, including self-conducted training in spare spacesuits, they’re worn out enough to warrant a couple days of rest.

It had taken him a bit of time to understand what exactly Keith has meant by avenging his family. When the topic had first been brought up, all he has said was that they could still leave Earth, and then all their time had been devoted to the ship. It’s as they’re both adjusting various panels, work tools spread about them, that Lance asks if there’s even a plan they’re working off of here.

“Like… I stayed because I couldn’t leave behind their memory. How is leaving after finding out the truth avenging them?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long shot but I had been thinking…” he pauses, hesitant in a way Keith rarely is. Lance raises his eyebrows in askance. “Well. Once we land there, we’re going to have to try to expose what the government did. We have all the proof.”

Lance starts to protest, but Keith anticipates what he’s going to say. “It contradicts the whole idea of landing out of sight, I know. But honestly, I don’t expect security to be light at the drop off, and it’ll be a miracle if we don’t get caught then and there.”

“So you’re saying that if we make it through that, we send out a mass message or something with our proof and like, a demand? Reparations? There’s not a whole lot that can make up for a lost family.” Lance tries not to get upset, he really does, but it’s hard when he  _still_ doesn’t know most of Keith’s history and can’t expect him to understand how this all feels. Even after baring everything that plagues him, he isn’t sure if it’s fair to ask Keith to do the same.

“They’ll have to take responsibility for the killings somehow. There’s no way in hell anyone could forge the official seals they have on all the confidential material, so they can’t accuse us of that.” Keith speaks methodically, like this is something he’s been considering for weeks, and Lance wouldn’t be surprised if this plan was in the works the second he ran crying from the test facility. He keeps showing subtle care in that way, and he wonders how much longer he’ll have to pretend he doesn’t see Keith’s hesitant and searching gazes toward him in his periphery.

“We might get arrested anyways,” Lance adds, rolling his eyes. “The government hates people like us. But it’d be pretty messed up for them to convict us for treason or breaking and entering or something, when they left all of this abandoned and didn’t bother to delete any of it. We could get away with it if people believed our side and defended us.”

He thinks he might be able to find his friends from university when they arrive, and they’d definitely trust what he has to say. It occurs to him, then, that Keith knows people, too. He’s probably treading into a sensitive topic, but if it’ll help their mission, he has to try.

“I could search out the people I knew from school and show them what happened… Would you be able to find your dad and that person you lived with? They’d believe you, right?” Through this conversation, they’d steadily been reinforcing parts of the ship and checking supplies. At his question, Keith goes still.

“They… might. They care about me, but they know how I got over my mom’s notes.” He grimaces slightly, and Lance recalls his confession about the coordinates they gleaned from the frequencies being an unlikely coincidence, leaving Keith with nothing gained from the heirloom. “I guess they’d have to listen because I wouldn’t escape the planet to find them for no reason, not after how adamantly I told them I was staying. They’ll be wary, though, and there’s not much they could do to protect us even if they believed us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance decides. Pondering it, he realized that he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble. Evidence of a stunt like a concentrated genocide would cause uprising, and he can imagine the proud smiles of his family for getting the justice they deserve. “Whatever happens, we’ll make sure to do enough. We’re partners now, and if either of us goes down, we’ll make sure there’s hell to pay.”

Keith mirrors his smirk, and they refocus on their preparations with renewed vigor.

-

Their training is sketchy at best, considering they’re both barely in their twenties, previously in the middle of college and with absolutely no experience in piloting. Keith knows the ship has an autopilot feature and was made for ordinary passengers to be able to configure though, and he tells Lance as much when he’s freaking out about the possibility of them exploding before they even leave the atmosphere.

“We aren’t going to explode. I’ve read up on this, it’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just read a book and suddenly know how to drive a car, Keith,” Lance says emphatically, “and you  _definitely_ can’t know how to pilot this ship just from keeping up with your assigned readings! Man, I can’t believe you got me so into this idea that I forgot neither of us can even operate this death trap!”

“Lance. Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to—!”

“I promised you we’d avenge your family, didn’t I?” Keith says, placing the slightest emphasis on the ‘we’, needing Lance to know how serious he is about this. He doesn’t want their last day together to be marked by Lance’s defeated tears, and he doesn’t want their last day together to be anytime soon,  _full stop_. “To be able to do that,” he says more softly, “we need to be able to get off the planet. And we’re going to.”

Lance nods, shifting closer to Keith where they both sit on their usual rooftop, casually leaning back on their forearms and looking up at the deep purple sky of the sunset. They’ve gone back to the city one last time, not having seen it for a while during their preparations, and they agreed to stay here for their day off. It’s nearing summer according to the calendars they have, and the cool breeze at their altitude is comforting. From this vantage point, Lance can see a majority of the city, utterly empty and pristine. This is a pocket of the US that was untouched by disaster, but it still holds the stories of the citizens who once lived here. In every abandoned balcony, each wilting potted plant, every closed door, there is a story locked within that makes Lance feel as if he’s in a ghost town.

No matter what he tells himself about not dwelling, he still can’t help but compare this seemingly preserved environment to the utter destruction that exists in the targeted areas. He doesn’t think about what his hometown must look like; that’s an image he needs to keep preserved within himself. For all the times he imagined apocalypse scenarios in his childhood, always based upon fiction, it’s hard to match up that kind of devastation with something as picturesque as this moment. Even without the characteristic noise of human existence, Lance finds comfort in the hum of insects still residing in the surroundings. The wind carries nothing but the nondescript scent of fresh air but he inhales deeply regardless. His radio is set nearby, playing the songs they’ve both heard so many times now, and the familiar melodies sink into their skin and leave them filled with a calmness completely foreign to how they’ve been living for the past months.

“What are you going to miss most?” Lance asks, turning his head to look at Keith beside him. They’re in the moonlight again, and he’s still as enchanted as the first time he witnessed this. Keith hums, drumming his fingers against the bottom of his ribcage.

As Keith thinks, Lance tries to picture the landscape based on what they were told about the destination planet, called ‘Obnova’ for its literal translations of ‘renewal’ and ‘reconstruction’. There wasn’t much information they were given other than the overall facts that the atmosphere was safe for humans and their pets, and that every single departing ship contained collapsible shelters to live in while more permanent structures were constructed. Materials for buildings and other necessities were sent toward the planet months in advance on passenger-less ships, in order to make the “move-in” more efficient. It would likely take years before their society could be anywhere near as composed as what it was on Earth, and it would take hard work from every person to keep themselves in check.

“Birds, I think,” says Keith. “I’ve always been an early riser, and the sound of birds chirping feels like company when there’s nobody else around in the morning. I don’t know what kind of wildlife the new planet has, so…” he trails off, smiling gently as a blackbird passes above them. Lance is caught in his violet gaze when Keith tilts his head to mirror his position. “What about you?”

“My go-to answer for this is usually rain, but the new planet must have that if it’s habitable. I guess I’d say the roads. Like, all the stretching highways and back avenues and dirt trails that lead somewhere I’ve never been. There’s so much I never got to discover here, and I regret not spending more time exploring and enjoying what I’ve always had all around me.”

It’s quiet again, nothing but the rustling of trees in the distance and the soft wind around them.

“I think we’ll find new things to love when we get to our new home, after we finish our mission.” It’s in a whisper, like Keith doesn’t want to disturb the moment they’ve created, and Lance’s heart soars.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

They fall asleep on the roof together, reminiscent of the night they first met. Only this time, Lance’s head is pillowed on Keith’s shoulder, and he feels more at home on Earth than he’s ever been since he was left alone there.

-

The morning brings to them the promise of something new, and anxiety returns in full force as they suit up and climb into side-by-side pilot seats. All the research they had done leading up to this day is either going to carry them to their survival, or fail them at the last minute and leave them forever abandoned, maybe even dead. It’s a risk they’ve calculated again and again, one that sometimes kept them awake and restless through the dead of night, and at other times simply left them with an overpowering feeling of determination. Some part of Lance is thrilled at the idea of fulfilling his childhood dream of being an astronaut, but he knows now that space travel is much more complex and life threatening than he’d ever imagined. Regardless, he and Keith came this far. They made every preparation, familiarized themselves with every nook and cranny of the spaceship, and their concrete knowledge has to preside over their lingering fears.

“Have you said your goodbyes?” Keith asks, settling himself into his side of the cockpit.

“What, to the planet? I want to call this moving on, but not quite a goodbye. Some part of me is always going to be here, no matter how ruined it gets when those gamma rays hit. It’s not really a ‘see you later’ either, though.” He and Keith laugh softly, gazes connecting over the few feet between them. Lance settles into his own seat and leans his head back, sighing slowly. They check through each step before takeoff, and soon enough they’re gone, shooting clear out of the atmosphere and leaving behind the first place they could ever call home.

The takeoff is anxiety inducing for the both of them, but they manage to stay conscious despite the impressive force. The cabin still rattles as they go upwards, but the ship is set to autopilot and they both feel relatively at ease as they shoot further from the ground. Keith exhales loudly from beside Lance, and seems to decide this is the time to spill the details he’s been holding in.

“When the first nuke strike happened, I didn’t register that anything was wrong.” The words are blunt, but neither of them can be bothered. The bombings were no distant memory and yet they still felt separated from them, as if they happened in a different realm of time and space. Breaching the topic doesn’t scare either of them anymore. All they can do is accept it. “I mean, we’ve been through wars overseas, and the first bombs weren’t in America. I didn’t think I had to worry. When they eventually hit the southern states, I was just glad no one I knew lived near there. But I’ve never been very attached to anyone, and that applies to how I feel about Earth, too.”

They haven’t activated hyperspeed, the ship going fast enough already to carry them hastily away from the planet that's now a blue-green orb growing tiny and hazy in the distance. Lance is listening to Keith, but he feels oddly calm. He always had such a deep love for the Earth, wanting to learn everything about its nuances and its secrets, but he’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel any sense of longing as he looks back at it from the viewport. He guesses this kind of acceptance is what moving on feels like.

“My mother’s notebook,” Keith continues, “was left to me when I was young, but I never learned why. My dad never told me why she left, or anything about who she was. That notebook is the only thing I’ve ever had of her. I always took it as a sign that I was going to find her because of it. What we found at the test facility wasn’t at all related to her, and that hurt.” His face is so pinched, and Lance can see years of anguish and craving for the unknown etched into the tense lines.

“I stayed because I thought I would find my own truth if I did, and when that lead to a dead end I thought I deserved to die on Earth for being naïve enough to think some pages of numbers and childish hope would get me what I’ve always wanted.” Keith’s voice is bitter but it holds no hesitation, and it becomes easier to understand his pensiveness from ever since they met. He’s been agonizing over this for so, so long.

Sharply, Keith looks up at Lance and pins him with his gaze. It’s fiery and determined, deep enough to drown in if he gets close enough. “But I still don’t know anything about her, and I realized because of you that I can’t give up on it. If I let myself die on Earth just because of one false trail, while you gave up everything just to stay with the memory of everyone you love, I’d feel selfish and like I’m undermining your determination. We’re both going to reach our goals at the end of this, I’m sure of it.” And he is, because Lance can read Keith’ emotions by now and he knows that there’s enough courage and stubbornness between the two of them to get what they want. They sport twin smiles, and their energy is redirected toward focusing on their journey.

Every aspect of their flight is going smoothly, autopilot carrying them in the direction they specified as they talk idly, watching the distant stars shine around them. A few hours into their travels, everything is going fine until it’s suddenly  _not_ , and red lights are flashing in the cockpit as the sound of a shrill alarm goes off. The two jerk sharply in their seats, heart rates picking up as things go wrong that definitely should not have gone wrong. Lance just wants to figure out how to fix this and go back to their peaceful voyage, but the alarm is spiking his anxiety up so high that he can’t focus. The cabin isn’t shaking and there are no worrying noises outside of the alarm, and he can’t tell what the hell went wrong.

“Lance!” Keith says urgently. “It’s the radiation sensor,  _shit_ , we’re right in a field of electromagnetic waves.”

“Radiation? How— oh, God.” He feels the blood drain from his face as he realizes how utterly screwed over they are right now. “Keith, it’s the gamma rays. The field is probably several hundred light years wide considering how far the source is, and we’re caught in it, oh, God.” He checks the radio frequency monitors just to confirm his suspicions and, yeah, those are the exact measurements gamma rays are characterized by.

The field they’re in is full of such concentrated energy, and the only reason they haven’t been pulverized immediately is the secure shielding of the ship and the vast distance from the source causing some waves to have scattered earlier on. They won’t be safe for long though, and Lance knows they have to act soon.

“Keith, the shielding isn’t going to hold long enough for us to get out of this on our own. We need to go into hyperspeed, ASAP.”

“God, is that even safe? There’s so much interference here, I can’t read any of our stats.” Keith is speaking quickly, the way he does when his thoughts are coming too fast and he’s trying to hold himself back from a full-fledged meltdown. Lance grabs onto his shoulders to distract him.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about that. We have to try, okay? It’s our only chance of surviving this. Trust me on this one, Keith.” Lance hardly even knows if he trusts himself, considering how he went off at Keith for saying reading a book made him an expert pilot. He probably doesn’t know anything more than his partner about how to fix this, but damn if he doesn’t have enough adrenaline to  _try_.

Keith breathes in slowly, exhales in just as much time, and nods. “Alright, yeah. Yeah, of course I trust you.” He squeezes his hands around Lance’s forearms where they automatically came to rest, and moves back to the panels on his side of the cockpit. “What do I need to do?”

They go through the steps, having memorized this procedure despite it being available to them on their computers. It’s easier knowing exactly which parts happen when, and within minutes they’ve tuned out the blaring lights and piercing alarm to place a singular focus on their task.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Lance takes control of the ship, disabling autopilot. He and Keith flick through switches in tandem, and he begins speeding up the ship in preparation for hyperspeed. There’s turbulence now, the rapid speed change pressing them back against their seats as they rattle around in place. Keith groans from beside him while keeping an eye on their systems checks. The interference is still bad, but whatever still works tells him they’re in the safe zone for now. Lance pushes harder, kicking up the throttle and holding his breath as he hears the boost in the engine.

“Keith, I’m going into it soon. Hold on.”

They speed up even more, and he isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but the temperature inside the ship is rising and Lance is sweating hard inside his suit. Only a bit longer, and they’ll get out of this radiation soon. Only a bit longer, and they’ll be safe again.

“Commencing hyperspeed.”

He half says it just to sound like a cool space commander, but he also needs to hear it out loud to kick up his determination. He increases the throttle once more, and then it’s time.

"Three."

The ship is burning, and Lance can hear Keith's harsh breathing to his side. Metal groans piteously as Lance pushes past the vehicle's limits, and he sends a prayer out to whatever inconceivable force controls his fate to  _please_ let them live through this.

"Two."

It feels quieter in the ship, as if the faster they go the more sound is distorted. Lance feels his legs go numb, and he hopes that’s just an effect of the intense G force. He feels his heart pumping blood furiously, hears the thump in his head and closes his eyes against what’s coming.

“One.”

Keith’s hand slips into his, fingers lacing together and gripping hard, the only tether keeping him to this moment. He feels a roar in his whole body, and then everything goes white.

-

His thoughts are dim, and every word feels like a string just barely missing the needle’s eye. He fights to regain consciousness, dragging himself through the thick swamp in his mind to reach what calls to him.

“Lance! Come on, please, wake up!” That sounds familiar. He knows that voice, he knows his name in that voice. He remembers now; it’s Keith.

He bursts back into consciousness with a desperate gasp, heaving for breath in the ship’s stale air. They’re still in space. They’re still on course and there’s no sound in the ship other than his and Keith’s incredulous wheezing. The alarms have shut off, all their systems are functional, and they’re alive.

Oh God, they’re alive.

Lance snaps his head around to look at Keith, instantly regretting it for the rush that catches up with him and leaves him dizzy.

“No, crap, don’t pass out again, you asshole. I thought you died!”

“Nope, still alive,” Lance replies, holding his head as he recovers.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes out, incredulous rather than annoyed. “We are. We made it.”

They survived going through the gamma rays, and they both know Earth is awash with them right now, on its way to becoming a true wasteland as the radiation punches through the protective layers of its atmosphere. It’s all over now, and they just barely made it out in time.

Their mission is far from over, even assuming the rest of the flight to the drop zone passes without further incident. They both have to avoid government officials once again, and deliver their message to the mass population. They’re probably both going to be the first people jailed on their new civilization, but Lance supposes that just comes with the goal of exposing a two year long genocidal ruse. It’s not like he ever expected the rest of his life to be simple after he decided to be the only fool to stay on a ghost planet.

Lance looks around at the inky blackness of the galaxy around them, no trace of their solar system anywhere in the vicinity. They must be hundreds of light years away by now, and he’s relieved to have Keith by his side all the way out here. Finding someone as foolish as him to be his partner in crime was a blessing he doesn’t know how to thank the Universe for.

“Hey,” he says, smiling with an edge of teasing, “you’re my slice of Earth.”

Keith laughs and shoves him, saying, “God, you’re so embarrassing, you know that?”

“Good thing you’re the only one who’s had to see that side of me in recent times then, huh?” Lance walks over to drape his upper body across Keith’s back and shoulders as he remains in his chair. For a moment, they simply watch the darkness that they’re flying through. It’s unreal, actually being out here in the middle of it all, nothing to tie them down to any planet. In time, they’ll find a new place to call home where they’ll have to go back to following all sorts of rules and conventions. For now, the entire Universe is theirs, expanding endlessly in every direction while keeping them right at the center of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> drop a kudos and comment if you liked this story!
> 
> inspired by 'dust' by the neighbourhood


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